


if you came to make some trouble (better make it good)

by stereokem



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Early Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff With Teeth, Humor, Implied First Time, Infidelity, M/M, Marking, Mission Related Infidelity, Multi, Smut, Virgin Eggsy, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereokem/pseuds/stereokem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Piss off. It’s not like you’ve done it.” Eggsy lobbed a pointed look at her.</p><p>Unperturbed, Roxy shrugged. “True; but it’s not exactly a staple food at the buffet of lesbian and heterosexual sex acts, now is it? Besides: it’s just not something I’m all that interested in— whereas, you are interested, thus my teasing you about it is perfectly acceptable.”</p><p>= </p><p>or: </p><p>What if Eggsy, usually so full of bravado and verve, was unsure about something? Specifically, about having sex with Harry?</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you came to make some trouble (better make it good)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paxdracona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paxdracona/gifts).



> Oh, jeez, it wasn't supposed to be so long!
> 
> I wanted to include "Anal Virgin Eggsy" in the tags, but thought that might be a bit crass.
> 
> Written for Paxdracona, and the prompt: Eggsy with love-bite makrs from Harry, enduring some ribbing from Kingsman recruits. You said you adored smut?? I sort of ran with it.

_Novices have expectations_  
_Cause they think they should_  
_Experts have their revelations  
_ _Like they knew they would_

 _What may seem complicated_  
_Is overstated, downright misunderstood_  
_Love will not be outdated  
_ _Maybe placated but its got to be good_

\- "Trouble" by Over the Rhine

**-KM-**

It was the mountains that made him think of Harry.

He blamed it on the mountains.

Granted, the mountains were not directly responsible for the hickeys and bruises climbing his neck and torso. But he still blamed them anyway.

He had been able to see some of them from the eastward window of his hotel room in Rio, on the sixteenth floor of some god-forsaken tourist trap. In the early morning, they glittered with a silhouette of gold from the rising sun; after sunset, they hummed a dark and muted purple, and in the middle of the night they were little more than black shapes that block out some of the patterned tapestry of the sky closer to earth.

Eggsy has never really been the maudlin, pensive type. Why mountains in Rio made him think of Harry Hart was anyone’s guess—although, if he were to be honest, everything at least kind of made him think of Harry. That’s the sort of situation he’s gotten himself into, apparently. It was not just the mountains, but the freshly ground coffee from the various cafés around his hotel; it was the noises of the city at night, and the noises of the early morning; it was the way the sheets in his hotel room had smelled, slightly sweet but also musty, not entirely unpleasant but distinctly unfamiliar. Being in Rio without Harry made him think of Harry. Not thinking of Harry made him think of Harry, and being in Harry’s presence stopped him from thinking altogether— yeah. It’s actually quite worrisome. And more than a little pathetic.

It certainly caused him to do a plethora of stupid things.

His report didn't say as much, but Merlin appeared to be reading between the lines.

Eggsy rocked slightly on his feet and shifted as the older agent made a vague humming noise. Merlin swiped a long, elegant finger over the touch-screen of his clipboard, eyes scanning the report that Eggsy had submitted not five minutes ago. Merlin hadn’t yet mentioned anything akin to surprise that Eggsy has managed to turn a three-week long reconnaissance mission into a weeklong holiday in Brazil; but Eggsy had now been working at Kingsman for seventh months, and while Merlin’s expressions were still one of the great trade secrets, they are a little less indecipherable now. At least, Eggsy has gotten rather good at spotting disapproval.

He was about halfway through scanning the report when he said, in a very non-challenging monotone, “Have something to prove, Agent Galahad?”

Eggsy was thankful that Merlin didn’t bother looking at him because, if he did, he might see the slight flush that crept far enough up Eggsy’s neck to peek out over his turtleneck. “Just not keen on spending much time in Brazil,” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I see.,” Though he did not see, because he swiped his finger again, still not looking up. “You know how I feel about unnecessary deviation from protocol.”

Merlin’s tone was so mild that Eggsy couldn’t be bothered to feel irritated by his words. “Yeah, well, it’s done, innit?”

It was at this point that Merlin halted his careful scanning and finally did look up. His eyes were like needles roving up and down Eggsy’s form, taking in everything from his slightly uncomfortable posture to his trainers. He took a considerable amount of time studying the turtleneck sports blazer, and then slow to a complete and deliberately at Eggsy’s neck, where a small violet suck-mark is just visible on the left side of his neck.

“Yes. Evidently.”

Eggsy just barely stopped from rolling his eyes. He wondered if he should bother explaining to Merlin; because, when Merlin wasn’t on his professional high-horse, he was a mate, and all around a pretty good bloke. And he would definitely understand. He would get it if Eggsy told him about being in his hotel room, scanning out the window in search of the marks who would pass by on one of their frequent visits to a particular night club, getting irritable and distracted, and occasionally letting himself look not at the street below, but at the mountains in the distance. Merlin would get it if Eggsy told him that he had gotten tired of waiting around, tired of gathering information from afar, and had seen an opportunity to get himself home early.

Merlin would understand why Eggsy had followed the marks—a couple—to a bar, casually chatted them up, bought a few rounds of drinks to loosen their tongues. Got them talking about the upcoming Olympics, the plans of the Brazilian government, and what was claimed to be “strictly speculation” about the Brazilian cartels. Got them a little bit drunker until they invited him back to their home, where Eggsy knew he could gather a little more intel, and where he would participate in a rather enjoyable threesome. And if he happened to slip a little drug into their post-coital drinks in order to haze up their memories then, well, that was the good agent in him thinking responsibly.

A lot of that was in the report. The part that wasn’t consisted of Eggsy catching a Kingsman jet back to England with a seriously impressive sense of guilt, glaring irritably out the window at the mountains as they become smaller and smaller in the distance.

He wondered if he should tell Merlin. But, as said, Merlin was good at reading between the lines. He probably knew _all_ about mountains.

Merlin had never said as much, but Eggsy suspected that Merlin was at least moderately aware of what was going on—between Harry and Eggsy, that is. Merlin was a canny bruv, and generally well-liked; he and Harry seemed fairly friendly, and have probably known each other for at least a decade. It was conceivable they might have talked about it. But it was all still so new that Eggsy didn’t really feel comfortable discussing it with anyone – at least, not without being plied with considerable amounts of alcohol. And, since that was Roxy’s job, here, in front Merlin, he kept silent.

Perhaps deciding that he has seen enough for the moment, Merlin stopped scanning and closed the file that held Eggsy’s report. He set down his clip-board and looked at Eggsy over the rims of his glasses. “Right. I may call you when I review your report in greater detail, but it seems to be in order for now.”

Eggsy nodded, feeling something in his stomach uncoil. “Lancelot still training the new recruits?”

Merlin returned his nod. “For the KEME Team. She and Agent Kyenge are out on East Camelot. I’m sure they could use some assistance, if you are feeling up to it.”

Eggsy shrugged and gave an affable “sure”, turning heel to leave, intent upon the common-locker room near the east gymnasium. He would need to change first, if he was to help out with training.

He was almost completely out the door, when he heard Merlin add softly behind him, “Oh. And be sure to check in with Arthur.”

**-KM-**

The trek to the east gym was long; but it was good for him, let him clear his mind a bit—or, perhaps, muddle it up some more. It was difficult to tell. His trainer-clad feet carried him across the marble floors of HQ automatically, allowing his mind to race and circle at a dizzying pace. He barely acknowledged the other agents and personnel that he passed, mostly unaware of their presence.

Nine days ago, Kingsman had inducted several new recruits for the Kingsman Emergency Medical Extraction (KEME) team. Eggsy and Roxy, being the most junior agents in the Knighthood, were meant to help out with their physical training. However, on that same day, Eggsy had received orders that he was to fly out to Brazil on a three-week, long-range reconnaissance assignment.

Logistics being what they were, the decision of who was to go to Brazil came down to Eggsy and Roxy, and Eggsy had been picked (he suspected) because it was determined that Roxy would have a firmer hand when it came to training recruits. That, and Eggsy had returned only two weeks prior from a mission in the Congo that had almost gotten him killed; a long-range recon in Brazil, he suspected, was supposed to be boring and relaxing enough to attempt to make up for the experience.

He had asked Harry about it the night before he shipped out, while they were having dinner. It had been a stay-in date night— which, after a month of what might tentatively be called “dating”, he and Harry both found they preferred to going out. Eggsy enjoyed sitting in Harry’s kitchen, sipping on a glass of wine while he admired the other man cook, crisp shirt-sleeves rolled back to his elbows, neat apron tied behind his back.

In response to his question Harry had hummed, neither a yes or no. “Mm. You have never been to Brazil.”

“Yeah.” Eggsy had swilled the pinot grigio in his glass, thinking. “I’d rather have company, though.”

Harry had looked over his shoulder at Eggsy then. “Are you suggesting we take a holiday together?”

Eggsy gave him a toothy grin. “Maybe.” A pause. “We could even take JB.”

At that, Harry had rolled his eyes and turned back to the risotto he was preparing. Eggsy had simply watched him with a lopsided, stupid smile, the one he knew he couldn’t get rid of around Harry.

Well. There were a _few_ ways to get rid of it. . . .

Eggsy suddenly swerved to the side to avoid colliding with a tech from R&D, who barked in surprise and quickly apologized. Eggsy replied with an apology of his own, quick and almost curt, before striding back off down the hallway. _Fuck_. This was exactly this sort of things that had plagued him in Brazil. The change of scenery obviously hadn’t fixed anything.

But he hadn’t been able to _focus_. Because, fucking mountains aside, Harry was all he had been able to think about while in South America. Harry Hart and his wry smiles, his strong arms as they stroked down the sides of Eggsy’s body, his warm mouth planting kisses everywhere that can be reached, his teeth as he bit Eggsy’s bottom lip, his long body pressing Eggsy firmly into the soft, cream-colored couch in Harry’s living room. . . .

Eggsy turned a corner sharply and attempted to refocus his thoughts as he feels the beginnings of an erection begin to stir in his trousers. God save him from that man, but Eggsy has been replaying that date night over and over in his head ever since he hopped on the plane to Rio. It was a memory that fills him with warmth, longing, lust, and . . . an unbearable sense of dissatisfaction.

Not that Harry was unsatisfying—no, no, _god no_. As per, Harry Hart the Lover was as much of a gentleman as Harry Hart the Spy. As the more experienced of the two, he lets Eggsy set the pace of their relationship, which had only begun about a month and a half ago. Eggsy was immensely grateful for this. He’d been with blokes before (not that Harry Hart could ever pass for just a “bloke”), almost as much as he’d been with women. But they were always blokes his own age, and it was mostly just fooling around: hand-jobs, frottage, the occasional suck-job. About this sort of thing, he had no reservations.

It’s just that, where Eggsy grew up, there had been a difference between being a faggot and being a _faggot_. Likewise, it was one thing to get off in private with another bloke, and another to take it up the arse and risk having _that_ piece of gossip make the rounds. The gay kids in the neighborhood didn’t have it terribly, but they also didn’t live around Dean and his slimy offspring. If Dean had gotten wind of that, he would have used it against Eggsy mercilessly. And so, while Eggsy he got the logistics of anal sex, and had bummed a few girls in his time (a princess, even), he himself had never . . . well. . . .

 _Well_. That was the problem with Brazil.

That night, before Eggsy left, he and Harry had ended up on that plush couch, snogging like a pair of randy teenagers, and Eggsy had been so turned on, his heart thudding nervously in his chest as Harry move against his, both still fully clothed, and he thought that maybe this would be it. . . .

But it hadn’t been.

He had stopped. He had turned so red he was sure his complexion matched the burgundy swirling in the carpet of Harry’s living room, and he mumbled that he . . . couldn’t do it? Wasn’t ready? Needed more time? He didn’t remember exactly what he said, he was so livid with embarrassment. He just . . . _couldn’t_.

And Harry . . . god, Harry. He’d been so understanding, so patient. Even with his brown eyes dark with lust, he had sat back a little, hair slightly askew, and rubbed Eggsy’s arms assuredly. He had nodded. Said something soft and kissed Eggsy gently on the mouth, on the forehead, on the ear. He had run a hand through Eggsy’s hair and murmured, _It’s all right, my boy. It’s all right._

And while it was too early in their relationship for declarations of love, Eggsy had felt his heart burst just a little with the strain of containing all the emotion he had felt right then.

They hadn’t done anything after that. There had been more snogging, some gentle coddling, murmured nonsense from Harry, but no sex of any sort; and though Eggsy had felt immensely relieved, he also felt incredibly guilty.

It was the guilt that stayed with him, followed him back home that evening, on the jet that took him to Rio. It was the guilt that had made the mountains stand out so against the backdrop of the South American horizon. Eggsy has been kicking himself about it ever since that night and, when he was sitting in a hotel halfway across the fucking planet, it had been almost unbearable.

This was the part that did not make it into his report. He had been in Rio for a week, and was beating himself up over this act, this thing that he hadn’t been able to do with Harry, to _give_ Harry—and he had decided that he needed to get back home as soon as possible in order to set things right.

The rest, as they say, was history. Engage the cartel power-couple he’d been watching, particularly the wife, charm the obliging husband, accept the invitation to return to their estate, and take turns shagging the wife’s brains out. If, at some point, the husband’s lips happened to land on his dick then, well, that’s just how the game was played.

When Eggsy entered the locker, he took a quick peek around and found it empty. Just as well. He sighed and strolled up to his locker and punched in the code to make it open. He removed his duffel filled with training-grade tactical gear, and then took out a pair of sweats and A-shirt. These he changed into, stripping quickly and trying not to look at his own body as he layered up again. He re-donned the turtle-neck sports jacket and shut his locker. He was about to walk out the door when his phone buzzed once in his pocket.

Thinking it was Roxy, as she had been the last person to text him and inform him where the recruits were, Eggsy opened the message without really paying attention.

_That was quick._

Eggsy stared at the message, brow furrowing in confusion until he glanced further up the screen to see who the author was.

_[Harry Hart]_

Eggsy’s throat went a little dry. Merlin didn’t waste any time, the bastard. Recovering, Eggsy tapped his thumb over the screen to type out a short reply:

 _Brazil wasnt all that spesh_.

The response was quick to come, and its intention direct.

_I would like to see you in my office._

The “now” was implicit but unmistakable. The fact that Harry had managed to sound cross over a text message did not bode well. Truth was, though, he’d rather face Harry in his office rather than at his home, because at least at work they had to maintain some professionalism.

And then Harry might not see the hickeys and bite-marks currently decorating Eggsy’s skin.

(Yeah. _Right_.)

Hiking the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder, Eggsy strode out of the locker room and back into the hallway, making for the exit that read “East Camelot Field”. He sent off his reply before he pushed open the door and stepped out into the sunlight.

_this afternoon? training recruits w/ Rox atm._

Squinting in the morning light, Eggsy shielded his eyes and locked on the small black shapes that were making their way around the perimeter of the field. Some sixty meters to his left, he spotted the larger shapes of Roxy and a tall black man whom he assumed must be Kyenge.

Roxy’s head turned as he approached. She was dressed in smart grey cargo trousers and a stern-looking maroon jacket.

“The kid from Brighton is going to wipe out next,” she said conversationally as Eggsy halted before them and set down his duffle on the slightly damp grass. “At least, I say. Joseph doubts me.”

Next to her, the young man turned and smiled. He was dressed a little more like an army drill instructor, combat boots and military-style fatigues in black with gold Kingsman insignia. On one shoulder, a badge with the KEME emblem stood out.

“I think it will be the Cambridge kid – Travis, not Anjelica,” he said good-naturedly, his voice betraying a slight French accent. He extended a hand to Eggsy, and introduced himself, “Joseph Kyenge, KEME Command Officer.”

Eggsy accepted his hand, and shook while introducing himself in kind. “Eggsy Unwin, Agent Galahad.” He dropped his hand, looking at Joseph more closely. “Oi, wait—did you pull me out of the Congo last month?”

Joseph smiled a wide white smile. “I did. I’m surprised you remember.”

Eggsy shook his head. “Only barely.” He had been in really bad shape.

Somewhere deep in Eggsy’s pocket, his phone buzzed.

Deliberately ignoring it, Eggsy looked out across the field again, eyes tracking the progress of the flock of black-clad individuals making their way around the grounds. “Are we taking bets?”

“There are twenty-one left of the original forty-three, and it’s only been a week,” said Roxy. “So, no.”

Eggsy snorted. “Damn, Rox. What have you been doing to them?”

Roxy simply shrugged. “Training them.”

“Agent Lancelot is very . . . exacting,” Joseph supplied diplomatically.

“They’re in training for asset extraction,” Roxy said, sounding a little peeved. “What did they think it was going to be like?”

Eggsy shrugged while Joseph looked down at his watch. “Speaking of which,” the tall man said, “I need to visit South Camelot field and adjust the obstacle course for this afternoon. I will meet you both back in the gymnasium. If you will excuse me,” he nodded at the both of them before heading off in the direction of South Camelot, striding purposefully over the dewy grass.

Roxy waited until Kyenge was out of earshot before she slid her gaze over to Eggsy, something mischievous glinting in her eye. “So I take it you’ve been to see Arthur already.” She looked pointedly at his neck.

It had been nice, for a moment, almost forgetting about facing Harry; but, at Roxy’s comment, Eggsy’s sense of dread returned. He ducked his head a bit and did not blush, bringing up a hand to cover the dark, reddish-purple bruise that he had forgotten was there.

“Ah, no,” he said sheepishly rubbing the spot, as if to make the mark disappear. “Tha’s from—uh — Brazil.”

Roxy simply looked at him. It wasn’t even a disapproving look, though he almost wished it was.

“That assignment was intel recon.”

To hide what little was left of his chagrin, Eggsy slapped on a wry, slightly salacious grin. It was one thing for him to not want Harry to see the marks, but he had no reason to be embarrassed about them in front of Roxy. It wasn’t like she had never come back from assignment with a few obvious contusions in awkward places.

Then again, when Roxy came back, she didn’t have to own up to a lover who also happened to be her boss.

“Ah, Rox. You’d be surprised at how often these things go hand in hand.”

Roxy didn’t miss a beat.

“You were supposed to be at a _distance_.”

Eggsy grunted, and pulled his arm across his body to stretch it. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy, and watching the trainees make their circuit of the field gave him the desire to expend some of that energy via running. “Well, things weren’t moving along and I made an executive decision that some proximity was required.”

“So you haven’t been to see Arthur yet?” She watched Eggsy shake his head in response, and she snorted derisively. “Oh, he’s _not_ going to be happy.”

“Christ, can you mind your own fucking business, Rox?”

“When you’re shagging the boss, it’s everyone’s business, Eggsy.” She paused, and then raised her eyebrow, a minuscule smile tugging at her lips. “Or has that particular train not left the station yet?”

It took all of Eggsy’s will-power to both control his flush and not give her the v-sign. The last couple of times he and Roxy had gone drinking together, buggery had been the primary topic of conversation. Being that Rox was the closest thing Eggsy ever had to a solid friend, perhaps her interest in his sexual exploits with their boss wasn’t all that unusual. Nevertheless, she patiently shoved drinks at him and pestered him with questions until she got all the answers she wanted.

“I’m not afraid to do it, per se,” Eggsy had slurred to her the last time they’d had a night out. “I’m just afraid I won’t _like_ it.”

Roxy had shrugged and taken a sip of her ale. “So? What’s wrong with that?"  

The simple answer was “nothing”. If he didn’t like it, then he didn’t like it. Biting the pillow wasn’t the end-all-be-all. But the problem was that _Harry_ liked it; the man was a top if Eggsy had ever seen one, and he made it no secret that he would _like_ to top Eggsy at some point. More than like, actually. Which is where Eggsy’s concern lay: what if they made it to fifth base and Eggsy didn’t want to do it again?

He wanted to like it, God he did. He wanted to give this to Harry, and wanted to enjoy giving it to him, wanted to be able to do it with abandon. He wanted to make Harry feel _so good_ like that. . . .

Eggsy had expressed as much to Roxy, however inarticulately. So, at this point, she was aware of the finer points of his inexperience and hang-ups, and she was both sympathetic and teasing about it. Right now, it was more the latter. Eggsy brought his other arm across to stretch it, mouth twisting irritably.

“Piss _off_. It’s not like _you’ve_ done it.” He lobbed a pointed look at her.

Unperturbed, Roxy shrugged. “True; but it’s not exactly a staple food at the buffet of lesbian and heterosexual sex acts, now is it? Besides: it’s just not something I’m all that interested in— whereas, you are interested, thus my teasing you about it is perfectly acceptable.”

Eggsy dropped his arm and brought one foot back to stretch his leg. “Just drop it, all right?” he half-hissed as the trainees approached.

Roxy gave him a nod. “Sure.” She then waited while the KEME recruits came to a halt and formed ranks before her. She surveyed them all levelly as they looked curiously at the still stretching Eggsy.

“All right ladies and lads. This is Agent Galahad; he will be lending a hand in the rest of your physical training. Now, I hope you enjoyed your warm-up lap. I want six more of those and then we’ll hit the mats.”

A chorus of groans started up and died in almost the same instant as Eggsy saw Roxy’s sharp eyes glint readily at the recruits. Roxy disliked complaining just as much, if not more so, than Merlin, and she was far less subtle in showing her displeasure. If this lot wasn’t careful, six laps would quickly turn into twelve.

Eggsy, on the other hand, was much less of a hard-arse. Where Roxy took her role as trainer very seriously, Eggsy felt slightly uncomfortable with being in a position of . . . superiority. He liked to think of himself less like a trainer and more of a coach. Win one with the team, lose one with the team.

Before Roxy could open her mouth and exact some cruel punishment in the form of added laps, Eggsy stepped forward. “Oi, lads, c’mon. Just a bit o’ vigorous jogging, and you won’t find a more gorgeous morning to do it. Keep up a brisk enough pace, and I’ll join you a few rounds, yeah?” He looked back at Roxy. “All right, Lancelot?”

Standing there in her maroon jacket and her hair pulled back in a tight bun, Roxy gave him a look that was all but unreadable, if a bit stern.

“As you see fit,” she said after a moment. Just then there was a buzz. For a heart-stopping moment, Eggsy thought it was his own phone, but then Roxy extracted a sleek black mobile from one of her pockets. After unlocking the screen, she looked down at the message she had just received. “Percival,” she said to Eggsy, as she typed out a quick reply. She slid the phone back into her pocket and straightened. “Can you handle this lot? I will meet you and Kyenge in Gym 6.”

Eggsy nodded. “Yes, Agent Lancelot.”

At that, Roxy turned heel sharply and began the trek back towards the main building. After watching her for a moment, Eggsy turned back to the recruits, who were staring at him expectantly. He gave them a grin and clapped his hands together. “All right then, you heard Lancelot. Let’s start on those six laps. Hop to.”

They complied, still not sure enough about their new instructor to voice any traits of complaint. As they jogged past in silence, Eggsy’s pocket vibrated. With some trepidation, Eggsy reached into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out his mobile, unlocking the screen to reveal the message:

_Are you . . . well?_

Eggsy cringed slightly. Shite. He hadn’t meant to make Harry worry or arouse any suspicion. Feeling chagrined, he type out his response before sliding his phone into his duffle and jogging to catch up with the trainees.

_yeah, fine! just busy. talk later?_

**-KM-**

“So, are you the good cop?”

It was their last lap around the field. The trainees, after seeing that not only did Eggsy run the laps with them, but good-naturedly cajoled them to keep up and go faster, had decided that Eggsy was safe to address in a less formal manner than they did with Roxy.

Not that Eggsy minded. He preferred it, actually.

Eggsy twisted around so that he was jogging backwards, able to look at the recruit who had spoken. It was a blonde chap who was leading the pack, square jaw and built like a brick shit-house.

Eggsy gave him a smirk. “Sorry bruv, don’t roleplay unless I’m on assignment.”

There was a chorus of panting-muffled laughter, and Eggsy turned around once more, letting his feet carry him as they would. God, it felt good to run with them; he was a little less edgy now, the endorphins from running making him feel relaxed and loose. He had almost managed to stop thinking out his impending meeting with Harry.

When they came to a stop at the end of their sixth lap, another recruit, this one a shorter bloke with a buzz-cut, pointed at Eggsy’s neck and shoulders. “That from a mission, then?”

Eggsy looked down. The air was chilly, but his brisk pace meant that he had developed a light sheet of sweat by the third lap, and had thus abandoned his turtle-neck. This, unfortunately, left him in only his white A-shirt, meaning that the love-marks along his neck, collar bones, and shoulders were quite visible.

To the recruit, Eggsy only winked. “The things you do for the job, eh?”

The young man grinned. “Oh, yeah, bet they really had to twist your arm.”

Eggsy reached down to pick up a water bottle, then tossed it to him. “Not this time,” he said wickedly. “Restraints aren’t always a feature.”

Once the group had gotten watered, Eggsy lead them back inside. They went down a wide hallway and through a pair of steel double-doors, entering Gymnasium 6. Roxy, as promised, was standing over by a wide expanse of mats. She had changed from her earlier attire and was now in a black tac-suit.

“I hope you weren’t too easy on them,” she said by way of greeting as they approached. She took in Eggsy’s A-shirt and all that it failed to hide, but didn’t mention it.

After that, they had the trainees pair up and spread out along the mats. The point of this exercise, Roxy told them, was to assess their hand-to-hand combat skills. Theoretically, if you worked for KEME, hand-to-hand was less crucial to your skillset than emergency medical procedures or pararescue drills. However, the Extraction and Containment Corps (ECC) which KEME was a part of required that all agents be at least qualified in hand-to-hand.

Eggsy and Roxy were walking among the pairs, having them practice a few disarming and disengaging tactics, when one of the doors to the gymnasium quietly swung open. Eggsy’s entire body stiffened before he even looked up.

Standing there, leaning against the wall by the door, was Harry Hart.

And, wouldn't you fucking know, Rox hit the nail right on the head: he did _not_ look happy.

 _Oh fuck me_ , Eggsy thought, just as Roxy too looked up from what she was doing, and then shot an unreadable glance Eggsy’s way.

Eggsy returned her look with a minuscule twist of his lips to communicate something like “I have no fucking clue” before returning his attention to Harry.

He was leaning against the wall, posture easy, hands clasped together idly before him. He wore a dark, navy-blue pin-striped suit, and one sharply creased trouser leg was crossed over the other, his head tilted to the side just so. He said nothing, nor did his mouth move to indicate that he might break his silence. His eyes, however, held Eggsy’s gaze for a hot moment before traveling downwards, stopping just below Eggsy’s chin.

_Fuck fuck fuck **fuck**._

Almost as if he could hear Eggsy’s internal and unimaginative barrage of cursing, Harry raised a single eyebrow. He then inclined his head towards the door and pushed off from the wall, exiting back out into the hallway.

The order was as clear as day. Eggsy looked at Roxy.

She simply nodded, and turned back to the pair she was instructing.

Making excuses to his own pair of recruits, Eggsy walked across the mats, weaving through trainees, crossed the rest of the gym until he was pulling open the door that Harry had disappeared behind.

He came to stand in the hallway, blood thudding in his ears, heart tripping with a non-too-subtle amount of anxiety. He looked around to find that Harry had not bothered waiting for him, but was walking further down the hallway.

When Eggsy caught up with Harry, dragging himself on leaden feet, the older man was holding open the door to a room Eggsy had never been in. Eggsy knew Harry was watching him, but he could barely meet his gaze.

Harry gestured once and Eggsy complied with the command, entering the room. He heard the door close behind them with a click.

For a moment, all was silent. Eggsy concentrated on his breathing, the erratic beating of his heart, the twisting in his gut. He tried to take in his surroundings, but registered little more than a string of empty, unused desks, a few chairs, and a bookcase in one corner. He swallowed hard as he heard a single step fall upon the floor behind him.

“Eggsy.”

The voice that Harry used then was far gentler than Eggsy had been expecting. He almost turned around because of it, so relieved to hear something other than . . . what, anger? Disappointment? Which was he more afraid of?

He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He was in only his A-shirt and sweats. There was no hiding from Harry the marks on his body. He didn’t know how he ever thought that he could; but, at least before, there was a hope of being able to prolong his finding out. A false hope, perhaps, but a hope nonetheless.

He heard Harry give a small, almost inaudible sigh. “Merlin told me that you broke protocol. I was wondering what he meant.”

Eggsy all but winced, closing his eyes as his brow furrowed. That was the crux of it, really. Fidelity—sexual fidelity, anyway—among spies wasn’t possible. He and Harry had never outright discussed it, but it was understood that the job would come first, and it was nothing to be jealous over.

But this . . . Eggsy had done this without orders. He had used his body of his own free will and judgement. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, the marks had done their damnedest to leave as much proof as possible.

Eggsy was a little shit, and he would freely admit that; but even he knew it was bad form to go to your lover’s bed when you’ve just been in someone else’s.

Eggsy swallowed, noting that his throat was suddenly dry. His licked his lips and opened his mouth: —

“Harry, I’m s—”

“Turn around.”

It was a testament to how much access to his lizard brain Harry had, because Eggsy followed the order on instinct, immediately. He turned, but kept his eyes on the floor. Harry’s smart shoes winked up at him, their polish evident even in the dimness of the room. Eggsy did glance up once as Harry walked up to him. His handsome face was a still mask of indifference, and it was almost as cold as any disapproval Harry could have shown him. But Harry’s movements were gentle: he placed feather-light touches on Eggsy’s arms and shoulders, getting him to back up until he felt the edge of a desk press into his backside. He braced his arms on the desk on either side of him, his stomach churning and skin tingling from where Harry had touched him. If he wasn’t a world-class agent, it would probably be shaking now.

God, he was scared.

“Look at me.”

Obediently, Eggsy forced his gaze upward. Harry’s brown eyes were intent upon him, and it was hard to stare at them too long. After a moment, Eggsy dropped his gaze to Harry’s mouth.

Slowly, Harry lifted one of his hands and slid his fingertips under the hem of Eggsy’s A-shirt. “I wondered why you sounded odd over your texts,” Eggsy watched Harry’s mouth murmur, warm breath ghosting across his cheek.

Somehow, Eggsy found himself gathering the gumption to speak—but when he did, it was not what he would have picked to say, if his brain was working.

“Grew suspicious, did you?”

Harry hummed in response. He splayed his fingers and let his hand wander slowly up Eggsy’s torso, taking the shirt hem with it and exposing more bruised, bitten patches of pale skin. Eggsy shivered involuntarily. Harry’s hand did not stop under the shirt was pushed up past Eggsy’s nipples, and the full expanse of red and purple marks were on display.

Harry’s other hand went to rest on Eggsy’s flank, just the fingertips, the index tapping over a particularly dark bruise.

“You did this without sanction.”

It wasn’t a question. Merlin had told him as much, the bastard. And the evidence was right there. Eggsy gripped the sides of the table hard and chanced a look up into Harry’s eyes again.

“Yes.”

Harry’s index finger tapped his flank again with no more purpose than before, just a gentle prod, a thinking motion. He blinked, impassive brown eyes keeping contact with Eggsy’s apprehensive green ones.

“Why?”

Eggsy looked down again. He was very aware of his state of undress, of what Harry was asking, of Harry’s hands on his body. He didn’t know if he could say this and look Harry in the eye. Christ, he felt like such a coward.

“Look, before—before Brazil. We were going to—but I –I wanted to come back, I didn’t want to be sitting around—fuck, why did you have to send me somewhere with fucking mountains? I mean . . . I wanted to come back to—” he bit off the you but just barely. “I was going stark raving, Harry, I had to come home and—” He stopped himself abruptly, realizing how crazy he sounded, realizing he was rambling. _Shit_. He tried again, summoning the apology he had not been given the chance to utter before. “Harry, I’m—”

But, again, he didn’t get to finish. The hand at his flank flew up to his mouth and pressed against his lips, silencing him. Then the fingers moved upward, carding affectionately through his hair. Above him, Harry let out an exasperated breath, but his tone was fond when he murmured, “Foolish, outlandish boy. . . .”

Before Eggsy could bother replying to that, Harry’s mouth was upon him, kissing him soundly. Eggsy’s brain stuttered to a halt but, fortunately, his body had no problem getting with the program. His lips worked automatically, kissing back, complying when Harry’s tongue found its way into his mouth. All the fear and anxiety that had been plaguing him was suddenly gone, overwhelmed by the hot wash of desire that fled through his body, making him positively dizzy.

Harry stepped forward further into Eggsy’s space, pressing against him so that the expensive fabric of his suit brush against Eggsy’s only just-cooled skin. Eggsy felt his arms leave the table, instead going up so that he could wrap them around the top of Harry’s shoulders. He moaned as Harry nipped gently at his bottom lip.

“I take it you liked them biting you,” Harry said against the side of Eggsy’s mouth. “Was it your intention to have evidence of them on you?”

Eggsy stiffened just a little. “No—no, I—”

His words were broken off in a gasp as one of Harry’s hands suddenly gripped a fistful of his hair and pulled back, not hard enough to hurt but just barely. Before Eggsy could try to react, he felt the sting of sharp canines digging into the already tender and bruised skin of his neck.

“Ahh,” was all he managed to get out, his erection having been brought to full attention by the maneuver. Harry pulled back, kissed the mark softly with wet lips.

“You said you did this because you wanted to come home—to me,” he kissed the mark again, and then moved his mouth to a new stretch of skin. “You couldn’t wait another two weeks?”

“I wanted—oh, god—I want you to fuck me.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Eggsy wanted to punch himself. Not because he didn’t mean it, but because it made Harry stop what he was doing and pull back to look at Eggsy, something like concern in his warm brown eyes.

"I thought you weren’t—”

“I wasn’t,” said Eggsy quickly. “But I want . . . to try.”

Harry looked at him for a long moment, and Eggsy wanted to squirm, because did they really have to do this _now?_ His prick was straining in his pants, and he wasn’t sure if it was actually going to get due attention (they were at work, after all), but he’d rather go back to making out than having this conversation.

“Did something happen in Brazil—?””

Eggsy shook his head. “Fucking mountains happened in Brazil.”

Harry looked at him quizzically.

“Nothing,” Eggsy said with some exasperation. “Look. I just wasn’t sure if I was . . . I dunno, ready, or something. But I did a lot of thinking in Brazil. And I . . . missed you. A lot. So I decided to get back as soon as I could—”

“Eggsy,” Harry said softly, and now the hand in his hair was gentle, soothing. “Please don’t . . . I do not want you to feel like you have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

In response, Eggsy grinned impishly and pressed his hips against Harry’s, making his arousal well-known. “I’m already uncomfortable.”

“Eggsy—”

 _“Harry,”_ Eggsy stood on his tiptoes and reached up to land a kiss on Harry’s mouth. When he pulled back, he looked into his eyes, all seriousness. “Really. I want you to. I want you to have me. _I want you to fuck me.”_

For a moment, Harry said nothing. All was still save for the steady thump-thump of Eggsy’s heart, merry and anticipatory.

Then, the hand in Eggsy’s hair tightened.

Eggsy found himself gasping again as his head was pulled back and his throat exposed. Harry pressed close and delivered a sharp bite to just below Eggsy’s right ear, and it made Eggsy attempt to dig his fingernails into Harry’s back, never mind that it was covered by a bullet-proof suit.

Eggsy let out a throaty moan as Harry sucked at the spot, then traveled up to bite non-too-gently at Eggsy’s earlobe. Eggsy reached up a hand without thinking, intending to run it through Harry’s hair, but Harry’s free hand caught his wrist.

“At least one of us needs to maintain some semblance of professionalism when we leave here,” he said, bringing the hand towards his mouth so that he could kiss the wrist. “And, as things stand, you already look debauched.”

A chuckle escaped Eggsy. “You definitely aren’t helping matters,” he said, focusing on the stinging flesh on his neck.

“I feel the need to combat the marks left by others with my own,” Harry replied, letting go of Eggsy’s wrist in order to lift up his A-shirt further. Obligingly, Eggsy lifted his arms so that Harry could remove the shirt entirely. Once he had done so, he let his eyes linger on the impressive number of sucks and bites on Eggsy’s body. He reached out a hand and tweaked one of Eggsy’s nipples, which was surrounded by a ring of teeth marks.

Eggsy yelped—but the sound quickly morphed into a moan as Harry began laving attention upon Eggsy’s pectoral, biting softly, sucking new marks into the skin. He would suck and then pull away to view his handy-work, staying in the same area until the mark was a dark red. He worked his way down Eggsy’s chest, crouching so that he could reach his abdomen. Eggsy felt hot, and his cock was so hard that his knees were going weak.

Harry gripped at his barely-exposed hip-bones, urging him to sit on the desk top. Once Eggsy had done so, Harry pushed him back until he was lying flat across it, the cool surface making goosebumps form on Eggsy’s flesh. He raised his head too look at Harry. Like he had with the A-shirt, Harry slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of both Eggsy’s sweats and pants, pulling them both down to mid-thigh. Eggsy gasped as his cock bobbed free, and Harry all but gave him a wolfish grin. He quirked an eyebrow.

“One might almost think you are happy to see me.”

Eggsy threw an arm over his face, and gave a groan. “Oh god, Harry, that’s the worst— _oh._ ”

Harry bent over him, placing one hand on his hip while the other took hold of his cock. Harry’s lightly callused palmy worked him up and down slowly as he watched Eggsy intently. Eggsy removed the arm from over his face and used his hands to grip the desk top. He squirmed, loving the feeling of Harry’s hands on him but needing more. “Harry— _Harry_ , please—”

The next noise Harry made was a deep hum around Eggsy’s cock as he took the head delicately into his mouth. Eggsy bit down on his lip to keep from whining, feeling hot all over. He would so much rather be doing this at home, on Harry’s plush couch, where he could be as loud as he wanted, but it was so fucking good he couldn’t be arsed to care. Harry sucked lightly at the head of his cock before sinking his mouth further down, moving his tongue back and forth and humming again. Eggsy arched his back, gripping the table harder.

“God, Harry, keep doing that, just like— fuck—oh, _god_.” He tried to keep his voice down, but couldn’t hold back the urge to utter praises as Harry worked his cock expertly. One of his hands kept firmly at his hip, thumb kneading the ridge of bone, while the other pressed against the inside of his thigh. Harry pulled back in order to swirl his tongue around the tip of Eggsy’s cock, causing his young lover to groan. He wasn’t going to last long, not like this.

“Oh, fuck,  _fuck.”_ Harry sank back down, bobbing his head and keeping the suction of his lips a tight ring around Eggsy’s shaft. Eggsy tried not to buck his hips, and was relieved when the hand at his hip helped to pin him down. _God_. What would _that_ be like? Getting pinned down while Harry fucked him? How did Eggsy not think he would like that? It was crazy, how obsessed and worried he'd been-- over what? Maybe it was a consequence of having his -- _ah!_ \-- having his dick sucked or, more likely, having his dick sucked by _Harry Fucking Hart_ , but all of his insecurities and cares seemed so silly and insignificant at that moment. All he could feel was Harry's strong hands on his hips, his expert mouth around his cock, slick and hot and perfect. And he couldn't help but think: How would it be, to have Harry completely and totally dominate him? To have him and use him so absolutely? Heat spiraling in his belly, Eggsy closed his eyes and let himself fantasize, imagine.

“Christ, Harry, that's bloody--" he let out a high, wanton groan. "Oh, oh god, I want you to fuck me. I want you to hold me dow— _nnn_. Just like this, with you hands on my hips."

At this, Harry's grip tightened, and he pulled off slightly to lave his tongue over the sensitive head. Eggsy gave another high moan, and Harry growled, the vibrations sending shocks up Eggsy's spine. God. He could die like this. He wouldn't care, he really wouldn't—

Except, perhaps he _would_. Because Harry was pausing to mouth at Eggsy's navel, nipping the skin, looking up at Eggsy with a gaze that was absolutely ravenous. He's dangerous and gorgeous, and Eggsy thinks he would walk off a cliff for Harry, would do anything for him, and sure as all fucking hell wanted to get plowed into a mattress by him before he left this earth.

"I know you’ll make it good for me, Harry, you always do. _Ah, yeah,"_ the last part was uttered in a sigh as Harry took up his task once more, taking Eggsy so far into his mouth that Eggsy nearly saw stars. _"Oh, mmnn—_  you’ll make it so good, won't you? You’re brilliant at everything— oh, _fuck!_ Will you— will you do that for me, Harry? Fuck me? Make me love it, make me want it? I bet you will—”

He gasped sharply, and bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming. Harry was gripping his hips with both hands now, so hard that Eggsy was sure he was going to have bruises and he fucking loved it. Loved getting his cock sucked by Harry, here in an abandoned office at work, at home on his stupid-comfy couch, in his bed. And he would love getting fucked by Harry too, because he _trusted_ Harry, and Harry would take care of him. He always did—

Without warning, Harry picked up the pace, working fast and dirty. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard and, in a blinding moment, it was all over. Eggsy’s hand flew to his mouth and he had to bite his palm to muffle his shout as he came, his body thrumming, the sensation so intense that his vision went momentarily fuzzy and his skin felt like it was tingling. Harry swallowed around him, sucking languidly, not removing his mouth until Eggsy’s cock was completely spent.

Only half-aware of what he was doing, Eggsy sat up and surged forward, catching Harry in a messy kiss. He sucked at Harry’s tongue and tasted himself in Harry’s mouth, and _god_ , that was fucking _hot_.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry reached between them and tugged at Eggsy’s sweats and shorts until they were back in their original position. He then plucked up Eggsy’s discarded shirt and helped him into it, kissing Eggsy sweetly on the mouth as his head made it through the appropriate shirt hole.

Propping himself up on the desk, Eggsy watched with a dazed smirk as Harry ran a hand through his own hair and straightened his suit, looking for all the world like he had not just sucked the life out of Eggsy a moment ago.

He looked at Eggsy, still a little pink in the face from exertion. His eyes burned with something like hunger and hope. He licked his lips.

“Shall I see you tonight?”

Eggsy pushed himself to standing and stepped up to Harry. Once again, Eggsy stood on the tips of his toes to kiss him.

“Count on it.”

**-KM-**

When Eggsy re-entered the gymnasium, he did so alone. Upon surveying the mats, he saw that Kyenge had returned from South Camelot, and had taken up Eggsy’s job of supervising combatants.

Both Roxy and Kyenge looked up when they heard the door close. Kyenge, who hadn’t seen all of Eggsy’s lovebites before, simply grinned and shook his head. Roxy, on the other hand, was shrewd and discerning, and she _definitely_ didn’t miss the few extra and fresh bite marks that trailed up Eggsy’s neck.

“I take it you and Arthur had a productive discussion,” she said primly once he came to stand beside her.

“We’re no longer at an impasse,” he replied smoothly. A few of the trainees who had seen him return were eyeing him now as well, some of them with suspicions about the state of his bruises.

Roxy raised her eyebrows. “Well,” she said, and he saw the grin that she couldn’t help but hide. “I’ll want a full report, then.”

“I’ll put it in fucking writing.”

**-KM-**

Later that night, Eggsy found himself staring up at the ceiling of Harry’s bedroom, feeling limp, boneless, dazed. _That was. . . ._

_“. . . wow.”_

Beside him, he felt the bed shift and heard Harry snort. “Are you all right?”

Eggsy nodded slowly. He didn’t feel quite real. “. . . yeah.” He turned his head to look at Harry.

Harry, hair wild and sporting a fresh bite mark on his collarbone, quirked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Eggsy grinned.

“Can we do that again?”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> What's with Joseph Kyenge, you ask? Well, I have a Congolese coworker; we have a saying/catch phrase for whenever we're about to go do something arduous or requiring more effort than we'd like. We tell each other: "Do it for the Congo!" 
> 
> Also, I was looking up synonyms for "anal sex" and the slang dictionary supplied me with things like "punching the starfish", "dancing the chocolate cha-cha" and "playing the rusty trombone", none of which made it into this fic for aesthetic reasons.


End file.
